


Amalgam- 2nd Person POV

by Glowingchaos



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader is Enhanced, Reader-Insert, Tagging as I go, relationship is later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowingchaos/pseuds/Glowingchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been so long in that shivering cold, your cell, so long that you had begun to contemplate if the operating table would be better, with its pitiful lamp just barely hinting heat on your pale, freezing shell of a body as the doctor injects pure pain into you.<br/>Then the Avengers saved you. Gave you hope. And for the first time in two and a half years, you didn't wake up in hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safe

It had been so long in that shivering cold, your cell, so long that you had begun to contemplate if the operating table would be better, with its pitiful lamp just barely hinting heat on your pale, freezing shell of a body as the doctor injects pure pain into you. Your ‘enhancement’ had already begun to start sprouting white fur across your body, to slow your heartbeat, to shift to animal, all to keep you warm, leaving your emotions to plummet as you knew that this was a chain reaction that wouldn’t just stop. You knew you were, more likely than not, going to turn into… something. You’d always hated that you couldn’t control it.  
Your train of thought was thrown aside and replaced with a surge of adrenaline as the locked door to the room emitted an earth-shattering clang. You cowered under your bed, fangs jutting through your jaw as your fear climbed. Another burst of sound rang throughout the room as the lock broke and the door flew open, revealing a man clad in blue and red holding a patriotic circular shield, backed by a woman in black with the most fiery red hair one could imagine. The man saw you cowering under your bunk, half-human, half-monster as you hissed in fear, no thought as to what they were doing. Your brain was so tainted with animal that your thoughts could barely form before they were thrust away in favor of emotion. You couldn’t tell they weren’t a threat.  
“Nat, do you have that tranquilizer? I think we have another enhanced, and I’m planning on taking out the least amount of innocent people possible,” he requested. She lowered her fighting stance to grab the tranquilizer from her belt of endless gadgets and handed the device to him. You growled threateningly as they moved toward you, spotted fur covering more and more of you and human features covering less and less. He held his hands up to try and show that he was non-confrontational, but he saw no change in your behavior. An apology followed quickly by a dart was met with a bellowing roar from the snow leopard in front of him. Because honestly, you weren't really there anymore. (A/N: Here's a link to what I think her roar often sounds like: https://youtu.be/xneiSfKk0Lo?t=69 )

You jolted awake, gasping like a dying thing. You first noticed, through the tail end of the drugs, that you were on something soft, compared to the hard cell you had spent so long in. You looked down, and were dressed in a hospital gown with friendly, crimson velvet sheets encircling you. You curled them around you in a cocoon and peered around at your new location. It was a dark grey room, lit with hidden lights close to the floor, the wall on your left slanted inward with thickly frosted glass giving you a severely fuzzed view of the bright city below. The right wall had open doors to a closet and a bathroom. And in front of you was a door. It seemed like heaven compared to the dingy zoo-like cell you had lived in. _‘Where is this? I feel like this isn’t Ukraine anymore. At least I’m away from that monster,’_ you thought, grimacing at the thought of Doctor Flint, who devolved you into what you were now. He wouldn’t think so. He said you were akin to a god, but you didn’t believe him. A tame knock at the door caught your attention and you hunkered down in your nest of blankets, the opening now facing the offending door. You growled automatically at the sound, but realized a new place may mean new people, and tried your best to sound trusting. “Hello?” you asked, your voice sounding like rocks grinding together, damaged and rough after such an eternity of silence (with sporadic screams, of course).  
“May I come in?” A female voice sounded through the door. You hummed twice in an affirmative, but shrunk into the covers just in case. “I’m friendly, don’t worry, okay?” She asked, slowly opening the door. She was no longer clad in the figure-hugging black from before, but an oversized T-shirt and grey sweatpants. She carried a tray of sparse breakfast food; applesauce, eggs, bread, water. She closed the door quietly behind her and approached tentatively. “I’m Nat, I’m not going to hurt you I’ve just brought you some food. I don’t think you’ve really eaten in quite some time.” She knelt beside your bed, placing it on one of the bedside tables.  
“Is it… drugged?” you croaked.  
“No, I promise.” she smiled- a practiced thing, you could see- but you still were wary. She ate little bits of each to show it wasn’t tainted. She stayed in the room as you ate, but stayed at a distance so you weren't unnerved. You tried to eat slowly, but it had been so long without good food that you ended up scarfing it down in ecstasy.  
"It’s requested that you go to the infirmary," she said. You nodded, cheeks packed with happiness.  
You finished your food and spoke, voice still reminiscent of streetwalkers who had smoked far too many cigarrettes, "What do they want? And how far away?"  
"Not that far, one floor down and halfway across the tower. The nurses saw you healing quickly in the time you've been here, so they've given you this as a small test."  
You contemplated the idea. The trek would be difficult, and you had no clue how well you could walk anyways, but you decided to go for it. It was a completely new world from what you had lived in for the past eternity, however long it had been. “I will,” you agreed, “but I need to know when it is first. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone.”  
“ November 15th, 2017,” she said with a glance at her watch. A chill erupted down your spine as painful tears pricked at your eyes; you put your hands up in a futile effort to stop the warm water from falling. “Hey, what’s the matter? You alright? How long’s it been?” she said, rubbing your shoulder affectionately, careful not to startle you.  
“F-four y-years,” You sobbed.


	2. Doctor's Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You remember what happened to you, on the cold hard table in Ukraine, from the cold hard table in the new home you're in.

You had calmed down enough to walk to the medical bay, bringing along the smallest fuzzy blanket as ‘protection’ on your back like a cape. It felt, emotionally, like a shield or armor, quite protecting, even though it was only a thick, fuzzy swath of fabric. It made you feel safe. Natasha led you to the elevator, where a lower level agent puzzled at the basket-case wearing a blanket, a hospital gown, and a bird’s nest of hair around the seemingly high-level building. As you went down, you asked, “Where exactly are we?”  
“The Avengers Tower, New York,” Nat responded shortly, a small smirk gracing her lips as you stumbled, star-struck, out of the elevator onto the medical floor. Nurses in teal scrubs surrounded the place, and you realized how much doctors and nurses set you on edge now. It seemed to you like a well-lit version of the dungeon you were in for so long. You hunkered down into the blanket that swept around your shoulders in a hug as a doctor approached. “Don’t be too nervous, she’s the one who did most of the healing once we brought you back here,” Nat said. The doctor motioned for you to follow her. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry. They’re not going to hurt you, promise,” Nat assured, “I’m going to talk to the others, the doctor can call for me if you really need support.” She left, and you followed the doctor, who had waited through the interaction.  
“Hello, I’m Dr. Joan Davidson. As Ms. Romanoff said, I cared for you when they brought you back from Ukraine. Now, we tried running blood tests to find out who you were, but the testing that the rogue scientists put you through tainted your blood with animal DNA, so the machines wouldn’t give a name. So you are…?” She questioned as you walked into an untouched medical room, sitting at a computer with an eagle logo. You sat on the bed.  
“A-Amelia Kerr,” You stated, spelling the last name as she quickly searched on an enormous database, most likely government-run.  
“From Santa Barbara?” she asked for clarification. You nodded, wondering if she could still recognize you with your gaunt face and skinny figure. “It... says here that you were declared dead in Ukraine over four years ago. Can I ask what happened?” She seemed… softer, than Natasha, in her questioning. Even so, you knew Natasha a little bit more, and you kinda wanted her back.  
“It… it was a late night, and I was walking back from buying a few things at the supermarket. There were… there were four men walking behind me, two British, one German, and one I think was French. I thought they were just really drunk, but they kept walking faster, gaining on me, then… they grabbed me. I thought they were going to rob me or, or rape me, but I thought… I thought they were going to leave me there, leave me whole, but they put a bag over my head and threw me in a car…” you paused to collect yourself, teeth clenched and hands gripping the table. “They put so many needles in me. Blood out, _something_ in that just felt like liquid pain… They put me in this old-looking casket thing that had so many, so many needles, and then shine really painful bright lights that didn't just hurt my eyes. He would make me turn into whatever animal they had put in me, have his minions beat me until it was forced to come out. It hurt to turn into other things at first, but that wore away as time went on and he changed me more. Then, then once the pain stopped, he started taking away the needles. He said I had ‘improved,’ and that I could pick up genetics through multiple types per session. That went on for a while, and I was able to put together different animals, like, a dog and a wolf would be something, and then I could add a bear or something. He said he was about to start adding a different, personal variable… I think he meant human blood. But, they, uh, saved me, before he started that,” you stopped, catching your breath. The edges of your vision blackened, encroaching as white stars floated through your eyes.  “Ugh, dizzy,” you mumbled, more to yourself than anyone else. She perked up from her ferocious typing at that notion.  
“Was it from walking down here, or talking a lot?” she questioned, unhooking a stethoscope from the wall and approaching until the blanket stopped her.  
“T- talking, I think. He made sure I stayed quiet,” you crackled, reluctantly removing the blanket from your shoulders as she checked your vitals. It was the first time you had seen your body clean in so long. Legs and wrists thin, collarbones and ribs saying a soft hello through your ghastly pale skin that yearned for the touch of the sun’s honey glow, mottled with the blue of veins, the purple of freezing skin, and the newly introduced red from the nurses scrubbing years of dirt away. It unnerved you, seeing how disgusting your skin was, even without the dirt that had covered you for so long.  
“Your heart is faster than before, but that’s between sedated you and stressed you, so it’s an acceptable gap. I’m glad you’re healing quickly. Have you eaten? I would be surprised if Ms. Romanov had made that much of a connection with a former captive without food involved,” she questioned. You nodded and hummed an affirmation, but looked away and down when she said 'captive'. “With the way you’re responding to food, and your body’s augmentation of changing shape, I think you should be cleared to eat without restrictions,” she confirmed. You smiled a bit, the feeling now foreign, but welcomed.  
“Oh, thank you so much for helping me, I’d love to repay you sometime when I have my stuff back."  
“Don’t worry about that, the Director decided that you would be an asset, if you chose to stay. He’s offering you a new identity, even if you don’t take it. Though I think one of the Avengers should be telling you this, they know more than I do. I’ve got a few more tests-” she stopped herself to change her wording, “ _examinations_ to run. Just to make sure you’re healing up. I know needles are scary, but it would be great if we could give you some fluids and helpful drugs to keep you in the green zone,” she tried to phrase it as best she could.

You shivered, but responded, “Okay, I’ll try.”  
She left to get what she needed, you had no clue, you didn’t take any medicine classes, but it left you to look around the room; dull in color, but the smell of the hospital kept trying to pull you towards panic. you didn’t let it, repeating in a whisper, “I’m safe. I’m safe. The Avengers saved me. I’m safe.” In due time, she returned with a cart of medical tools like the ones you had seen in the hallway, along with an eager nurse in tow. The medicines on the cart made you shiver as you looked, reminded again of that stupid cement block you lived in- no, survived in. She drew your blood, now that you were awake and clear of drugs, then gave you three shots and a bottle of pills. You didn't cringe, but then again it didn’t hurt; probably pain tolerance from the operations. You just stared straight ahead, eyes glossed over as you lived in the past. She told you that you were doing better than she would have expected, and that you could return to your room. You did so, but remembered to take your blanket-cape.


	3. Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet the others and fill yourself after a long, long time of nothing.

You returned to the room that you woke up in. Your room, now; you’d decided to claim it. The elevator ride up had no one in it, and you were strangely glad for the surreal atmosphere of being truly alone for the first time in years. Your room had new, delicious-looking food set on the table. You quickly dug in, tears of relief and joy crawling their way out of your eyes as you switched food. It actually disappointed you when you felt full, but it was expected.  
There was a knock on your door and you smiled as Nat walked in again. “Hey!” you chirped cheerfully, carefree from the plethora of food you had consumed.  
“Hey. The rest of the group wants to meet you, including the Director, but I told them you’re still settling in and it should be your choice. So what do you say?” she proposed.  
“...Ok" you said quietly. There wasn't any more to say: Your handlers wanted to see you. You curled your blanket around you more, and stopped subconsciously picking at the leftovers on the side table. “Can I get some clothes, maybe? And meet outside my room? I…” you trailed off as you felt it might be a bit of a demand.  
“No, sure, I’ll lend you some of my clothes for the time being. And we can meet up in Tony’s lab or something, Bruce is bound to be there, and Steve likes to marvel at whatever the two are doing, even if he doesn’t understand it at all,” she assured.  
“Ok, sounds like a plan,” you agreed, pausing, “Can… I bring my blanket along? I feel safer with it, I know it’s stupid…”  
“You’re fine, you can bring it. I should have thought of clothing earlier, you can borrow some of mine.” She left, soon returning with undergarments, a maroon shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and a black and grey jacket. She waited outside as you changed. They were a bit large right now, but probably would fit nicely once you got healthy again.  
‘Wanna go?” she said when you opened the door, making a ‘come on’ gesture. You followed her to the elevator, three floors up, and opened to a lab containing the three men she mentioned before, giddy with excitement as they counted down. They were at six when you stepped onto the tile floors that were stained from past experiments.  
“Five… Four… Three…” Chorused the men, as they stared in excitement at an upside down liter bottle.  
“Two… ONE…” finished two of the men, who were not Tony Stark (you recognized him from the news) in anticipation.  
Tony, most likely the instigator of this ‘experiment’ exclaimed, “LIFTOFF!!” as he punched a button on a remote control that looked more for a toy car than whatever it was. That whatever quickly resolved itself into a bottle rocket propelled by a mini-repulsor. The projectile rocketed around the room as the three cackled in glee at their ‘invention’. It ripped through the open space, knocking over anything they had decided wasn’t dangerous enough to take care of. Firing off in spirals before it lost thrust and fell, it ended up spinning quickly in your and Nat’s direction across the floor. She kicked it back at them, the mostly empty bottle knocking hollowly against the floor.  
“Time for a break from the danger, boys, the new girl’s here to say hello,” Nat quipped, sauntering forward as the men’s laughter died down. You tailed along, the fuzz covering your shoulders making you feel childish but safe.  
Tony scoffed and countered, “It’s not dangerous, it’s just a bottle rocket, come on, it only knocked over like... eight things- nevermind.” You laughed a little as his defense imploded. “So who’s this ‘new girl’ anyways?” he asked. “I hear the lab had a bit of trouble ID’ing her. I was going to give Banner a sample to see if he could figure it out, but I guess that’s a moot point now.” he picked up a sandwich that was on a table to his left and took a large bite.  
“Amelia Kerr. But apparently I need a new name, since Ukraine and the US both think I’m dead,” you responded, trying to appear confident, but doing awfully with your withered body and baggy clothing.  
He mumbled something through his food, but realized that it was appallingly incoherent and decided to finish his food before talking.  
“Sorry, what I meant to say was, ‘nice cape,’” he restated. You felt your cheeks heat up a little as you quickly took it off and held it instead. “No, no really, you’re fine, it’s common for survivors of… difficult situations like yours…. tend to cling onto a thing, or person, a lot. For me it’s Pepper, as cheesy as it sounds. The whole thing with the Middle East shook me up pretty bad, and she definitely helped,” he assured. You smiled a little bit, but continued to hold your comfort item. He seemed to realize introductions had not happened, made a small ‘oh’ sound, set his sandwich down, and extended his hand to shake. “Tony Stark, of course,” he introduced himself. You shook it and the other two approached.  
“Dr. Bruce Banner, genetic scientist and nuclear physicist,” was the one with prematurely grey hair and a kind smile.  
“Steve Rodgers, at your service, ma’am,” the last man declared; broad shoulders and bright blue eyes his most striking characteristics. That and his apparent chivalry. ‘Of course,’ you reminded yourself, ‘He’s Captain America.’  
You knew the three, but it was still interesting to see them in person. You noticed more about the small things when you saw them here; Steve’s mild frown in concern as he feels how cold your hand is (his is burning in comparison), Bruce’s genuine smile that seems intent on making you feel happier and safer. You remembered why he was with the Avengers and came to the conclusion that his safe, docile demeanor is in direct contrast to his condition. Maybe he practiced it because people got nervous.  
“Thank you for… saving me. I know you don’t take kindly to Hydra’s puppets, so it’s amazingly generous of you to have done that,” you offered to the group, not particularly sure who might have fought for or against bringing you back.  
“It was the obvious choice," Steve declared, voice laden with certainty in his justice, "You hadn’t done anything wrong, and with you in that cell, it was clear you weren’t doing anything of your own free will."  
You were going to respond when Tony’s Starkpad buzzed with a notification on the same table the sandwich hailed from. He picked up the device and shook it once, displaying the information in a hologram in the center of the group, doubled on the back so you and Nat could read it. It was your information, meshed together from college applications, obituaries, Hydra observations, lab reports, and even what you had divulged in that quiet hospital room. They stood quietly for a long moment, reading over it- their faces growing less and less jovial as it moved from alive-to-the-world you to dead-to-the-world you. You didn’t pay too much attention, you already knew the story of course, but skimmed it to see what they did and didn’t put in. There wasn’t much left out in the Hydra reports, and as it went on, you actually became intrigued as to what they were doing to you. It seemed they were trying to give you the ability to change your cells at will, to any genetics you had already encountered, through consumption of either the animal’s blood or the animal itself. It left you not completely human, explaining that your senses were heightened and DNA was tainted. Theoretically, you were able to change into other humans and mix animals together, but since they used a technique that played off of studies of post-accident Bruce, it ended up dependent on your emotions, uncontrollable and unpredictable. The future plans decided that it could certainly, eventually, be controlled by thought, but it would take months of training and brainwashing. In the meantime, they tortured, raped, and abused you until you completely exploded in rage, then dropped you like a bomb into a town they wanted destroyed. You shuddered, but were hopeful at the thought that it could be controlled. You finished after most of the others, who you could tell were done and uncomfortable as they shifted their weight back and forth.  
“We all done?” Tony asked, his voice lower and more serious than before. When all nodded or failed to object, he took the pad and jolted it forward again. The report disintegrated into words then dust then nothing, as you gazed in a wonder cut short. They all took a minute to process. Sometime in there, Steve just whispered, “Oh my god.” It made you nervous, you could tell they were afraid of you; the room smelled different.  
‘No, wait, Tony smells it too,’ you thought. He had started sniffing as though he was trying to identify it, fear beginning to etch across his face. He ran off to another part of the room behind him, muttering curses and “This always happens,” as he turned off a neglected flame and removed a sizzling pile of greenish-gray froth atop a pan from the mess it had made. “Banner, it turned into a problem, again,” he called across the spacious area as he washed down the frothy chemical the reaction had spewed away.  
“This place is so dangerous,” you murmured offhand. Banner chuckled, making no attempt to help Stark whatsoever.  
“It’s how Tony operates. I’ve started to pick up his bad habits, too, but IT’S NOT SMART, HUH, TONY?” he shouted the last part across the room at his partner in crime. Tony flipped him the bird and kept cleaning.  
Once done, Tony opened a couple of windows, told the group that everyone should evacuate this level for about three hours, and promptly herded everyone into the elevator. You ascended two floors to an area that was the prettiest, most well-stocked mess hall ever. It had a plethora of food, arranged in what seemed to be type of cuisine; mexican, fast food, southern, vegetarian, fish-based, the list went on and on. Your mouth watered at the sight. You dug in, already hungry again after the mini-buffet from before. Steve joined you in the fray.  
“Are you that hungry already?” Nat asked. You nodded, cheeks once again puffed with a delicious burrito from the mexican section.  
You swallowed about half of what was in your mouth, then answered, “Nufin like good tex-mex.” The food naturally sedated you, and you felt more at ease around these strange people with household names.  
“Hey, listen, I’m sorry that happened to you, I wish I had made my studies less accessible,” said Bruce, sitting down with an actual tray of food (You had just grabbed what was in front of you, you were starving). You shook your head and waved at him, trying to communicate, ‘Nah, you’re fine.’ Apparently the message got through. “I know you might think I had nothing to do with it, but I feel responsible because they got a hold on my studies. You might have been better off if they didn’t have those.” Great, now you had to actually stop eating and say what you wanted to communicate. You swallowed and wished that he didn't have such a vendetta against pent-up feelings (though you knew why).  
“I’d be different, and honestly I’d rather not imagine how they’d work around the problem. It most likely made it easier for them, so, easier for me to deal with. You’re completely fine,” you said, waiting with your burrito in front of your face for about half the sentence. You took another bite as soon as the last word left your mouth. The man nodded, and began eating. You weren’t trying to be rude, but were glad the conversation was over so you could stuff yourself with food again.  
“Jeez, Amy, you’re almost on Cap’s level; you sure know how to put away food,” Tony quipped.  
“I’ve got four years of food to catch up on, better start now,” you joked. They seemed glad you could joke about your time in your cell. You looked over, and indeed, Steve was also consuming mass quantities of food, like you. Tony’s phone buzzed, and upon checking it, decided to read it aloud.  
“Ooh, doctor’s report. ‘Amelia Karr is cleared to eat as much as she wants, and is encouraged to do so. Her metabolism,’” he paused, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “aha, ‘is on a level between olympic medalists and Steve Rodgers himself.’ So I was right!” he reveled in his being correct, puffing his chest out like a bird.  
“Welcome to the team, Amy,” Steve congratulated, on his third taco, and not slowing.  
Tony got another, longer message from the lab a couple minutes later; he projected this one instead. It explained that with only the small amount of food you had been given this morning, you had already used most of it up in repairing yourself and gaining weight towards a normal baseline. Your body was optimized to use all of the energy you ate as best it could, therefore your recovery would be quicker than it ever should be, but requiring mass amounts of food. The report finished with unknowns, such as what happens when you change and if it taxes your energy to change, how you might store energy in the future, and if Hydra’s theoreticals of copying other humans and mixing animals might be a possibility.  
“It’s true, you look better already, less gaunt,” Nat chimed in, only eating a single slice of pizza. You rubbed your face, and sure enough, your cheeks weren’t hollow like they had been when you had first awoken. The group continued light banter, Nat and Bruce finishing what seemed to be early but was honestly just a normal person’s diet. Tony ate more than those two, but claimed he had been working in the lab for a day straight, so it was appropriate. But you and Steve went far beyond appropriate. Apparently it was normal for Steve to eat this much, but they had no clue about you. Steve ended up stopping and staring as you continued to chow down, having eaten about half of the mexican stand and two full pizzas.  
“I think I’m actually putting on weight, these clothes feel less baggy than before,” you mentioned once you had finished, in more of a joking manner, but then realized how much you had eaten. You lifted the shirt to find that your ribs weren’t showing anymore, and your stomach didn’t cave in nearly to your spine. You looked about normal. “What the fuck…?” you murmured.  
“Ok, that is not what I looked like before, what the actual hell is going on,” You said in a mostly monotone, certainly serious voice.  
“You ate more than Cap,” Tony said, stunned.  
“But what is going on? Really, I’m going back to the medical hall, whatever you guys refer to it as, but I’m guessing the doctors would love to see this,” you declared, shaking your head.  
“You ate more than Cap,” Tony repeated half an octave higher. Did he not see the larger problem here?  
“I’m going with, this is going to be an amazing genetic puzzle… and I want to help of course,” defended Bruce. Nat followed silently, grabbing your blanket-cape.  
“Nobody eats more than Cap!” Tony exclaimed, confused, maybe a little scared, and definitely stunned. You stepped through the doors before he could say anything else.


	4. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both the doctor and the realm of dreams are visited. One is not as pleasant as it may sound.

Down six floors in the elevator. It felt slow, time creeping by at an ant’s pace as your brain worked furiously with the confusion and worry tingling down your spine, but this elevator was most likely quicker than many others that traversed the stone pillars that were the skyscrapers of New York. You rushed into Dr. Davidson’s office as quickly as you could to keep from seeing all the too-close needles. She heard your footsteps, half-stomping into her room, and turned quickly.

“I- I ate a lot, and everyone’s confused, and I’m a lot less skinny…” your words all jumbled together as you tried to explain as best you could what happened in the mess hall. Your tongue wasn’t used to talking.  _{Silence, mongrel! Focus on your training, or we'll send you back to the guards.}_  


“More than Cap…” she mumbled under her breath, then, “Ok, I’m going to tes- _examine_ you more, If you’ll allow that.” Nat and Bruce walked up to the door, and you grabbed your blanket from her, nodded your thanks, and promptly closed the door in their faces.

You removed the jacket and shirt so she could read your breathing and see your progress. Your skin still looked pale, but healthy, and the bruises had gone. Your body looked about like it had years ago, except white as a ghost, coated in blue veins that had sunk back under the skin from so, so many needles. _{You will become stronger than the first one that came from this machine, :They shoved you into the machine, no delicacy about it.: we'll make sure of it.}_

“Fascinating,” she said, gazing at your new form. “Do you mind, the pants? Just wondering if your legs…” she seemed to be treading lightly in this conversation. She assumed correctly that the men had taken control of your body. However, you obeyed, removed your pants, and saw that your legs were in similar shape. Not fit, per se, but healthily shaped; normal.The twigs were gone. She allowed you to put your pants and shirt back on, but took more blood. You honestly felt far less scared now that you weren't frail and tiny like before, you felt like you might be able to walk a mile without needing to hold onto a wall every five steps. But the needles still brought your eyes to a glaze, a hidden fear that was chiseled into you.  _{You’ll be beautiful, little one, beautiful, and perfect. :he whispered, the plates with so so many needles moving into place, held down by thick straps.:}_. It took all your willpower to stay calm.  _{Stay still, damn it! You can't achieve true beauty without a little pain, yes?}_  

“I hope I’m not going to get fat,” You joked in a murmur, trying to stay in the room  _here_ and not get trapped in your head _there_ as she dripped blood into various machines, sending some of it away with a bubbly nurse that seemed constantly absurd in her optimism. She heard your quip through the deafening silence of the room.

“I doubt it. Your body will most likely optimize like Captain Rogers’s. It’s the most likely example of why you could eat so much; to create enough energy and supplies to return to a normal weight and recover at such an extraordinary pace,” she commented.

She had you hang around until the results came back, which were amazingly fast compared to normal doctor’s office visits. Nat and Bruce came in (they didn’t even question the door slammed in their faces), and you the doctor filled them in. The results were damaged like before with your genetic flaws, but they essentially said you were the closest to normal you could be with what tinkering the doctors did. Bruce took particular interest and read the specifics of the reports, the parts you and Nat didn’t understand. 

Natasha held you and rubbed your shoulders until you returned to the present. You eventually returned to your room to sleep for the first night since you had been rescued. You  dreamt a memory.

_ He cackles, his thick, plaque-tainted breath blighting your airspace as he lowers the metal plates filled with a thousand needles, ripping you open with the pure fire that drips from their hell-spawned points. You scream to the heavens but no one can hear you, there are no gods nor heavens to be found here. You scream for hours on end as the fire never ceases, the pain never ending, the torture that the doctor finds so scientifically fascinating never, ever stopping. You can see that one of the guards is hard beneath his uniform, turned on by this sick experiment, but in the haze of pain and hysteria, you can’t bring yourself to care. You scream and cry until your voice grows hoarse, then you scream and cry hoarsely until your voice devolves into nothing, and you go through the motions and the air jolts out of your lungs over and over but there is no screaming and your voice is gone. A weak wheeze replaces the powerful, primal explosion that used to rip through your throat, used to tear through the room, and used to spark that guard’s sick fantasies. The doctor’s had his fun, has finished with his toy (it’s broken now), and throws it back in it’s box. You fall asleep quickly in your cell, cheeks stained with tears that can’t flow anymore because your eyes are dry.  _

_ There is a blade, digging into your throat. You jolt up from the pain, trying to scream, but it’s not going to happen. You won’t scream for a long time, you think, with the raw scraping of hot breath against your torn vocal chords. You won’t be able to. There was no blade, but there is pain there, burning a clear path every time you try to swallow or even breathe. It’s a different pain, different than the needles, the pain in your throat. It still hurts.  _

_ He does it over and over again, tortures you, but at least he lets you sleep. There isn’t much food; you can hear him arguing over a phone older than it should be about shipments stopped by ‘those damn Avengers, thinking they’re saving the world’. You get smaller as he tries to make you into something bigger than the broken creature that inhabited the waste-stained concrete box. Once in a while, a subordinate with a big hose comes and treats you and your cell the same, aggressively spraying water at the disgusting things. You're not sure if they’re trying to make it smell better or worse.  _

_ The worst part is the nothing. The hours, maybe days of drilling boredom. You try to trick the guards, get them to pity you. It doesn’t work. You try to intimidate them. They laugh, a throaty, harrowing sound. You try to seduce them. you get close with the perverted one, but their shift changes too soon. Everything is always too soon. And when they put you into the casket with so many needles, you wonder if the First Avenger ever thought the device that gave him a new body would be used like this.  _

_ The doctor doesn’t want to beat you. He tells the guards to do it instead. The one who gets hard when you are screaming asks softly if the guards should, or could, rape you. You cannot hear him well, ears still ringing from your own hoarse screams and the impact of boots and rifle ends against your skull.  _

_ The doctor agrees. You were so close to simply accepting what happened here and then he agrees. "It will do good to speed her psychological molding, and solidify that we are her true masters. Isn't that right, dearest abomination?" He turns and smiles godlessly at you.   
The men return to beating you. They insult you, raw, painful blades made of words that match their steel-toed kicks, and their belts fall away and become a new weapon to beat you with as they choke you without their hands around your neck. You feel yourself beginning to change. They see it, and continue raping you. Human disappears. Animal appears. A bear, this time; a cheetah before. Before, they chased you; now, they will fight you. You will fight them- No, it will fight them. Your brain is muddled with emotion and within seconds you are gone. You will remember little, for the animal is here. It's claws tear into the leg of the guard that is down your throat. A roar erupts from both of you. _

You woke screaming, a primal, inhuman sound of fear that ripped through your throat, no longer obscured by past rubbings-raw. The nightmare shook you to your core, reminding you of what you were (killer, animal) and what you weren't (normal, human). You didn’t know where you were. The surroundings were too soft, it wasn’t your cell, you were being drowned in fake fur. You flung yourself from the fuzz and crushed yourself against the wall in terror. It wasn’t the concrete you had known for so long, it was drywall. Someone burst through the door, fighting stance ablaze and flaming hair wild from sleep. It was then that you remembered. Then that the memories fell away and the truth flickered to life in your eyes again. Your breathing went from quick and shallow to longer, more calming breaths, one of a freed bird stretching its wings. She lowered her stance and landed gracefully next to you; she came to your aid. She reached out a hand to touch your shoulder; when you leaned into it and did not flinch, her arms enveloped you slowly and you welcomed the comfort.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, they're not going to hurt you anymore, we saved you, you’re safe now,” she repeated, spouting calming nothings through her mouth, holding and rocking you. Steve ran through the open door soon after, footsteps pounding on the carpet like your heartbeat, but relaxed when he saw her cradling you on the floor.

“Nightmare?” he asked, his shoulders dropping, pity flowing in his voice, even with only one word. He sat down on the ground, propped against the side of your bed, close but enough away that he wasn’t intimidating you. You soon calmed down, still held close by the one person you gave any semblance of trust.

“What time is it?” you croaked, your voice still hoarse from your time underground combined with waking screaming. He checked his watch.

“1:24,” he responded, finishing his statement with a yawn.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. They both assured you it wasn’t a big deal. You yawned, thanked them for helping you, and returned to bed. They promised you a clock in the morning. You thanked them again, calmly closed the door, and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

You woke with full knowledge of where you were and no remnants of memories floating through your mind. A clock, as promised, dutifully sat on your bedside table, reading 10:38. You rose, showered ( _god_ , were you thankful for showers), and upon finding that the closet was still unstocked, returned to the clothes Nat had lent you before.

You went up to the mess hall, grabbed what seemed to be a normal human amount, and sat down to eat. Steve entered, grabbed what was probably average for him, and joined you silently.

“So you’re going on a shopping trip today, with Natasha there for backup and surveillance. It’s probably not a big deal for someone like you, but we can’t risk someone finding out that a dead person is really alive. Plus, I hear from Pepper herself that Nat has great taste in clothing,” he said, breaking the calm silence as you were finishing your food (he was halfway through his). “Stark’s paying, so don’t worry about money. Or refusing, for that matter, the man was throwing a damn _fit_ last night, it’s the most maternal I’ve seen him about anything besides his machines,” Steve chuckled.

“Daaaamn right, I’m payin'!” Stark announced in a near comical grandeur from the opening of the mess hall, startling you enough to jump. Loud noises mean bad things, but you're safe now. You calmed down and glared at the offending shouter. His hair was a pure mess, you could have sworn that a bird _actually_ lived in it, and he wore white sweatpants and a grandiose grey bathrobe. He looked like he owned the place, and from what you had heard about his money, he probably did. He held out his arms (the right holding a white mug of coffee; black, you could smell the bitterness from here) in either presentation or a gestural request for a hug. You assumed the former from his theatrics. “There’s no _way_ I’m letting you live in that room without it being _your_ room. It’s just _necessary_!” He crowed with something between pride and care, half-joking in a manner that you'd seen many times before on television (It’s hard _not_ to know about him). "And Cap? Language." You heard the joke in his voice. 

“I’d pay,” you murmured, “but I don’t think dead people have much money,” you huffed out your nose in amusement as you smirked down at your food. You heard Steve chuckle too, and glanced over to see a smirk on his face.

You made small talk, though Stark only talks big, and were the first to leave. You were reviewing what you knew about the Avengers, what files you’d accidentally read on social media after everything was released in the SHIELD/HYDRA file flood. Tony wandered off to grab shwarma and wax poetic about his 'great deeds', and as soon as he was out of earshot, Steve hurriedly talked to you.

“Y'know, I never thought I’d see that chair again. I thought they’d gotten rid of it while I was in the ice,” Steve muttered. You could hear his heart beating faster and his breathing was angry. "I can't believe those bastards used the damn thing for such an awful experiment. When I saw what they'd done to you, I-," he took a breath to calm himself down, "I swear I felt the need to make every one of those men hurt as much as they could. And I didn't even know you at the time. All I saw was a stranger in a cage, but it made my blood _boil_. I don't know why I couldn't keep my cool." He paused to think. "Maybe the capsule hit close to home, reminded me how human the people they test on are.  I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to think about that at all, It was an awful idea.” It was the chair with the needles, the chair the doctor had used.

“ _'You will become stronger than the first one that came from this machine.’_ Flint had said. I had an idea that it might have been yours, but it seemed absurd that they might have gotten the vessel that ‘Captain America’ stepped out of. Not to do what they’re… what they _were_ doing. But apparently they thought it would work, and it did,” you replied, murmuring, “I wish there had been less needles.” He nodded in understanding.

You left for your room after that, to get ready to shop. You closed the door behind you and leaned on it, a huff of breath jolting out of your mouth as your back hit the door. 

_{Public is not for you, experiment,}_  you heard the doctor whisper in your head. He was always talking to you, down in your cell, and you could hear what he would say now. He hadn't left you alone since you had woken up. { _You will always be above the crowd, even more so with those little wings of yours,}_ he would've cooed, running his hands along your back and ruffling the feathers that spawned being strapped down, completely un-free. You shuddered at what you might not remember about him, blocked with electric shocks and… and… _needle_ points. 

You busied yourself with making a list of what you needed for your room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter seems darker than the others, she's not as delirious from drugs and newfound food.  
> Italics with fancy brackets is the nagging voice in her head and/or the bad doctor. The dream is in present tense b/c it's a different feel, especially surrounded by past tense.  
> Constructive critisism is helpful as hell and feel free to beat me down and say I'm bad at this and that because I'll sure as hell fix it and make it better.


	5. Markets Are Not Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping is not easy, and Hydra is very intrigued in getting you back.

You’d calmed down, collected yourself and allowed yourself to be led by Natasha to a ‘cover car’, a generic (see: ugly) sedan that wouldn’t attract attention. And jeez, the thing did not look like it belonged to a top secret supernatural-international protection agency. It’s lack of blooming personality was astounding in it’s overwhelming aura of bland. The trash looked like a pothead’s car, (‘Expertly placed’ by her, Clint, and Steve last time they went out drinking. There was a concerningly large collection of empty bags of Cool Ranch Doritos in the back.) and really you were just astounded at the amount of normal it held within it’s mild walls. You sat passenger as she drove quietly, no radio. You felt a surreal air come over the silence as you realized that you were so, so free- Tears pricked at my eyes, and even though you knew it was silly, you enjoyed the fact that you two traveled so calmly to the store, such a blatantly normal act that held so much meaning of free. You laughed it off inside and just stared in awe out the window. Such wide expanses seemed far more massive after years underground. You were glad you didn’t feel so glazed over after what had happened.

_A camera zoomed in, sequential pictures taken through a longshot lens as the target disappeared into the mall. Ground units were dispatched with warning that the Black Widow accompanied the target, and that the area was coated in civilians holding recording equipment. Units began moving in._

“So,” Nat chimed, “What do you want to buy first? Clothes, tech,” she smirked, “more food?” 

“A map is a good place to start.”

“Good with me,” she deferred, and you set on your way.

You started with clothes. She helped you choose a range of things, from flashy and glamorous, to comfy and lazy, to the best of blending in. It was hard to not care about the money, having been a college student, but Natasha kept reminding you that you’d lost all of your things and it wasn’t any money at all to Tony. You begrudgingly pushed away the guilt and continued shopping. 

It took maybe 2 hours, but you finally got everything you needed. Even with such a long time, you were careful with your money and ended up with fewer clothes than Natasha suggested you have. You got a hair cut from shaggy-waistline to mid-back, and dyed your normal chestnut brown with undertones of red. You were looking for a music player at the Apple store when a familiar smell forced itself to your attention like a knife into your brain. Fear tore through your veins and you froze in place.

“Natasha,” you whimpered, barely audible. “They’re here. They found me.” She popped her neck and faked checking her phone. 

“Sooo,” she drawled in a valley girl accent, “Dad wants us back soon. You know how he gets when his baby girls are gone too long,” she led you quickly out, curling her arm around yours and nearly skipping out of the store, the open arms of the duo loaded with bags. Men in dark uniforms followed you soon.

The two of you didn’t get out quickly. It was as though they always knew where you were, turning at every double-back the two of you made with at most a half-minute delay. You were near hyperventilating when you finally speed-walked out into the parking lot, shoved the bags in the backseat, and sped off, Hydra close in pursuit. Careening down the highway, the offensive cars barraged your car with bullets from the passenger side. Natasha sideswiped the attacking car into another Hydra van, and before the attackers could damage your ride enough for it to stop, SHIELD sky reinforcements had taken out the drivers. Natasha drove maniacally fast down the highway, her destination unknown to you.

“N-Nat, I’m hit,” you projected over the roar of the tires kissing the highway, your words having to be forced out from your gritted teeth. You had hunched away from the bullet-spray, only to have been shot straight through your shoulder, directly next to your collarbone.

“Stay calm until we get back to base, keep pressure on the wound through cloth and do what you can to keep your pulse down. I can’t help much right now,” Natasha instructed, and you were glad she kept her attention on the ridiculously speeding car. You strained and stretched your reach into the back-seat, chose the least expensive shirt you could find through the haze of pain and contortion, and pressed it into the exit wound on your chest, face twisting into a silent scream. The wound itself felt like someone had funneled alcohol into it, and you couldn’t help but strangle out sounds as you pressed into the wound. Tears slid down your face but you weren’t sobbing. _It’s only the physical response to the pain_ , you lied to yourself, _Hydra can’t touch me. They can’t touch me._

_ {:Gunfire. Blood. Rivers, lakes of blood, all because of you. It was another bio-bombing with you as the weapon. Screams brushed at your ears, their full terrifying force cut short with the blood rushing through your head. Bullets lodged in your hulking muscles and matted fur, and their sting too was muted with the utter rage that led you to be dropped in this town in the first place. The bio-bombings were all your fault.:} _

You remembered the other day, when food, energy, had healed you nearly completely. You focused all of your concentration on the wound, and imagined all of the blood vessels that had been torn through reforming and clotting over. Lifting the shirt-towel, you found the wound to have covered in spidery red filaments. You huffed in amusement at your success, but when you tried to wipe the blood away, it kept coming. You searched again in your mind, and felt the bone was nicked and the marrow was exposed and bleeding. You gritted your teeth and tried your process again, scabbing the blood over thickly.

It worked, but at a cost. A rush of tiredness washed over you, and you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Nat,” you called out, lack of energy dulling your senses to where you could barely hear your own voice, “I… I healed it a bit, I’m not bleeding anymore,” a yawn forced itself into your conversation, “I gotta sleep though.” And before she could protest, you were gone.

You woke again in the medical bay, a cast immobilizing your shoulder and neck, and heavy swaths of cotton fabric soaked in antimicrobial seeping into your wound. The smell of rich food sat nearby but you couldn’t turn your head enough to see it. Dr. Davidson entered soon enough and used a remote to angle your bed up into a seated position.

“We were surprised when we saw you,” she began, “People don’t lose that much blood and stay awake very often. Or alive, for that matter.”

“But I- fell asleep. Didn’t stay awake,” you replied jaggedly, mouth feeling as full of cotton as your wound. You recognized the opiate sensation from breaking your arm at 13, and getting your wisdom teeth pulled at 16. _How delightfu_ l, you thought, grimacing at the feeling. 

“The amount of blood you lost, coupled with the nerve and bone trauma should have knocked you out in twenty seconds or less,” she corrected. “According to Agent Romanov, you were awake for over two minutes after the shooting. I’m impressed.”

“I’m used to pain, but bullets, not so much,” you informed. 

_ {You wanna eat lead, bitch? Or do you wanna be quiet and suck my dick already? You slut. :He slurred the ’sl’ of slut as he pointed a gun square in your face, brushing it against your top lip and nudging it under your nose.: You better fucking like it too! And if you bite my cock I’ll fill your brain with enough metal to- there you, go, it’s a lot ea- ungh! :He groaned, bucking his hips and gagging you.: -easier to just go along with it, ain’t it? :It was the only time you’d had a gun pointed at you outside of the bio-bombings. It was one of the worst times you’d had in Hydra’s grasp.:} _

You gasped and jerked your head away from the memory, trying to tuck it into your uninjured shoulder. Your breath shuddering reminded you of the hole in your physique, and you instinctively raised your opposing hand to cradle it.

“Obviously your body is processing the painkillers quicker than intended. Here’s the control dial, don’t turn it too fast. I’ll come check on you in an hour unless there’s a disturbance on the machines,” Davidson instructed, handing you the drug remote. You turned it up two notches and dreamt a warped dream. 

_ Guns fired needles into the car, hitting you in the shoulder again, and the fuzzy feeling of opiates bloomed outward from the needle-shot. Steve was beckoning to you in your cell again, and Natasha gave him a needle-gun. Why would Natasha have a bad thing so available to her? Untrustworthy, the doctor seethed in your ear as you hung in a black nothing, and you redirected that untrustworthiness at him, because he deserved it. Natasha and Steve deserved trust. Dim spheres of colors surrounded you and you marveled at them, trying to touch them. You passed your hand through an indigo one, thought of a name- ILLEYA STATON- and went from floating to being filled with lead in your hospital bed again. _

You opened your eyes and was back in the concious world. 

Steve was there, reading a book with a three-inch spine that sat heavily on his lap and his mind. You felt the remote in your hand, and glanced down to see where the incline button was. You pressed the button with your weighted thumb and the bed sat you up. You were pretty sure you couldn’t move much from the drugs in your system, but you managed to turn down the painkillers enough to keep from overdosing, By this point Steve had looked up from his book (which you could now see was a history of WWII) and come to sit closer to you.

“Hey, how you doing?” he asked in a strange tone that tread far lighter than necessary.

“I’m not terminal, Steve, you don’t have to have feather feet,” you slurred, hoping your point got across. “I thought of a name, tell your director man that I’m gonna be Illeya Staton now. Is the doctor here? How’s my shoulder?”

“Your bone’s already healed and the healing process is quick like before. I’ll tell the director later, just get some rest,” he comforted.

“Uh-uh,” you declined, shaking your head slowly because any faster and you were on an amusement park ride, “I feel like I’ve slept for ages. Got food?” 

He smiled with a yes, and at that, you knew you were going to be okay. 


	6. Cleaning Hiatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.

I'm taking a while off from posting, so I can elaborate and correct the story, and sync up the 1st person and 2nd person stories. If you're itching for more elaborate wording, go read the first person story. I'm also working on senior year in high school and an indefinite movie marathon (at least a month long, I'm on charlie chaplin currently). If you can suggest poetic prose authors on here or on tumblr I'd be very very grateful for the inspiration. Thank you for your patience and I must warn you that the story will get darker and there is more reference to rape during her Hydra imprisonment. There's another place for suggestions. I'm using mcumeta.tumblr.com and marvelmeta.tumblr.com for real analysis of Steve's character, so if you have any more of those, that'd be great.

TL:DR: Hiatus, probably a month? and give me links for: characterization, poetic prose, and description of violence, torture, and rape.

THIS IS GOING TO BE A DARK FIC.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE use ~*Constructive Criticism*~! I wanna hear you, and what you think! Thank you so much for reading!


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